The Best Man's speech.

Hello Blogsville.
How is everyone?
What’s new?
What’s the latest story?
Any new Romance? Anybody just got promoted?
Maybe someone got abducted by an alien. Or better still someone abducted an alien?
Did someone’s pet monkey sprain an ankle while trying to steal a banana of the fridge?
What’s the scoop?

Mines pretty simple.
I’ve started playing football. As a result, I know what my ankle looks like. And oh, I almost forgot, I’m a best man at a wedding.

A best man.
It happened two weeks ago. Chelsea, my adopted football team, had just played a really great game. I hadn’t watched a single minute of it. I stayed at home, watched a movie. Waited the requisite hour and a half and then I made a call to my friend to get the scores.
That’s how we professional fans do it.
Anyways midst my jubilation with a close friend of mine-He happens to be a she. A particularly sexy bit of she. I called her Stolichnaya after a particularly memorable day of vodka drinking- I got the phone call.

"Hello."
"Oh hi cuz. What’s up?" I said cheefully. It wasn't my mum. Phew!
"Congrats I hear you’re the best man at Okey's wedding. Okey just told me. He’s been trying to reach you."
"What?" I blurted.
"Congrats! I can’t wait to see you in a tux."
"What?"
"You do have a tux don’t you. Not that silly denim jacket. It’ll be really great. Seeing you at a wedding for the first time. You’ll get to walk down the aisle too. Heh heh."
"What?"
"I gotta go. My credit’s beeping. Call you later."
Click.

Stolichnaya stared at me.
I stood with a “Jeezuz I’ve just been made a best man” look on my face. Obviously she didn’t get what the look meant because she asked me what was with the look on my face.

I shut my mouth and stared at her lipstick.
“I’ve just been made a best man.”
“At a wedding?”
“No. At some March parade for the “Freedom of Gays in Nigeria before 2010”.’ I snapped back. “What do you think? Off course a wedding.”
She laughed.
“You don’t have to get all cranky” She said “And stop staring at my lips. It gets me all uncomfortable. If you need to stare at something that badly, stare at my boobs. I’m used to those. Besides I just bought a wonder bra.”
I stared. She was right. She did have a wonder bra. Fancy that!
“I can’t be a best man.” I groaned.
“Why? You’re my bridesmaid!”
That was something else. A year ago I had asked her to be my best man when I got married. We’d been through so much together I couldn’t think of anyone else I’d want to be behind me at the alter other than her. All my male freinds would just stand there muttering
" DOnt do it Carl. DOnt. It's not too late. Retreat. Abandon attack. Bros before hoes" . And about a million other innuendoes designed to break my resolve.
She i could trust to stay silent.
She had smiled and agreed.
6 month later when her boyfriend had asked her to marry him. She had called me and asked me to be her bridesmaid.
I was feeling really daring and so I said yes. Yes I would be her bridesmaid on the condition that i was called her Bridesguy or first Knight or thatguy Anything but bridesmaid.
She agreed.

A lot had happened since then. Primarily she had called her fiancé and asked that they get married in 2010 because she needed time. They still argued about it everyday.

I felt she was crazy for postponing that long but then again her being crazy was what drew us together in the first place.
“It’s not nice!’ I complained.
“What you being the best man?” She asked.
“No the wonder bra, But now that you mention it. That too.”
She laughed again.
“I knew I shouldn’t have asked you. You never compliment me!”
”I only compliment females!”
”What’s that supposed to mean?”
I raised my hands in frustration.
“Can we focus here ?This is about me. I’m the one in trouble.” I pointed at her boobs “They don’t need any help!”
She smiled.
“You think?”
“Lee!! I’m in a crisis here. I can’t be a best man. There’s a best man rule book. The best man’s constitution. To be a best man. You must have nephews. Have had sex. Own a tux and finally, have at least three people who call you uncle.”
“Really?’
“Yes!”
“You really think my boobs don’t need help?”
I screamed.
“FOCUS!!!”
Stolichnaya laughed out loud.
“Okay okay. I’m just teasing you. So... you don’t want to be a best man. The best man’s constitution? Typical. Trust guys to come up with excuses. What;'s the requirements again? You’ve got nephews right?”
I looked at her slowly
“Two. “ I conceded.
“Right. Check. You’ve definitely had sex. Either that or you’re the worlds oldest virgin.”
” Lee…..”
“I’m just joking. Off course you’ve had sex. What else is there? Tux. You own a tux right? I don’t mean that silly denim jacket of yours.”
I nodded wearily.
Why did everyone hate the jacket?
“There! See? Three out of four already. You’re almost eligible. Last on the list is you’ve got to have at least three people who call you uncle right? SO what about your nephews they call you Uncle don’t they?”
“I’ve only got 2 nephews.” I said smugly.
“Only 2? “She asked.
I held up two fingers.
She folded her hands across her breasts. Not that I was looking at them anymore.
Infact I had barely paid them a glance since the wonder bra observation. The problem with Stolich and I, like I always told my friends, was that I had ceased to see her as a girl. She was just a friend. Hell, we had been roommates for a year. Somewhere between then and our years of friendship, my erotic meter had developed a blind spot as far as she was concerned.
“I can see how this is going to be a problem.” She muttered. “Only two people call you uncle.”
“That’s right!”
“And they have to be at lest three.”
“Yes.”
“Well that’s it then. You can’t be a best man. “She announced slowly.
“Thank you. Thank you.”
Sometimes Stolichnaya was really a wonderful friend.
“Unless….” She added and gave me slight look.
Four years of friendship. I knew what she was about to do.
Wonderful friend was not going to happen.
“Don’t even think about it. “ I warned.
“What?”
“Lee…..”
“What? I haven’t done anything…”
“I swear to God lee if you pull that stunt.”
“What? What will you do...?” She paused. “Uncle Carl?’
There! She had done It. She called me Uncle. The rule called for three people to have called me Uncle. Now there where three people out there.
The jury had sat and made a decision.
I was officially a best man.
I sighed in frustration. Chelsea had won and I was a best man at a wedding. The occasion required some form of celebration.
I grabbed a pillow and beat her silly with it.

I’ve thought about it some more since then.
Why am I worried about the fact that I’m the best man? Maybe it’s because the idea of marriage scares me. Eventually I know I’ll get married. It might take my mum calling me for diner one fine weekend. Looking me in the eye over my favorite meal .and pulling the old “This is my last request as your mother” line, to get me moving.
Or maybe one day. I’ll cross the street. Walk into a store and there she’ll be buying a Nelson Demille novel. We’ll gist. Have a couple of dates. She’ll agree with me that Sean Connery is one of the coolest Old guys in the world and Danielle Steele is an alien sent to haunt us. We’ll make passionate love-everywhere-and months later, Stuffed with love, I’ll propose.
It’ll be corny. I’ll be wearing my lucky denim Jacket. I’ll probably stammer over my lines. But propose I will.
Whatever the path, it’s definitely going to happen.
And yet I fear that right now. Nice chap like me in my mid twenties. The last thing I need is to be reminded that my clock’s ticking.
Does that make me a chicken?
Maybe.

My mum’s been having a ball. She says I’m the first best man she knows off who’s having wedding jitters. Sometimes I suspect that this whole best man thing was set up on purpose.
Still.

I met the bride last week. She's fantastic looking. Okey was one lucky groom.
She's 6ft1 and i'm 6ft. She was wearing heels. I had to look up to her.
Okey is 6ft3.
I was weary of their babies already.

I told her i was delighted to be the best man at her wedding.
She gave me a smile and said.
“Yes so am i. It;s a great idea. Besides,,This might be my only chance to get to see you in a wedding by the alter.”
Hmpf.
What’s that supposed to mean?
I gave her a Ha Ha. Trying to be nice here.
She patted my shoulder.
“Don’t worry. Wait until you see my Bridesmaid. She’s so hot and good looking. She’s got one of the sexiest figures I’ve seen. You’ll love her.”

Christ!
Why didn’t anyone mention that in the first place!